


all my friends

by netherfriends



Category: Rust (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (they respawn), Angst, Claustrophobia, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forehead Kisses, Gen, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Injury, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Protective Wilbur Soot, Temporary Character Death, gun shot, i hopped on this but i really love their rust streams, implied/referenced panic attack, mentioned only - Freeform, mostly wilbur's POV but at the end it's tommy's, wilbur soot really do be like 'hurt my child and i'll shoot', your honor they're brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28761786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netherfriends/pseuds/netherfriends
Summary: Wilbur had only found Tommy a month ago, and he already thought of him as family. To be honest, it was partially Tommy's fault, for being so loud and genuine and very easy to grow fond of-Yeah, Tommy's fault. Not Wilbur's, not at all.Not his fault that he teared up when Tommy addressed him as a brother-Fuck.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 16
Kudos: 657





	all my friends

**Author's Note:**

> how are they found family in literally any game they play

Wilbur had only found Tommy a month ago, and he already thought of him as family. To be honest, it was partially Tommy's fault, for being so loud and genuine and very easy to grow fond of-

Yeah, Tommy's fault. Not Wilbur's, not at all.

Not his fault that he teared up when Tommy addressed him as a brother-

Fuck.

\--

One of the reasons that Wilbur had taken Tommy in at all was because he had just been laying there in the forest, shivering and covered head to toe and mud and Wilbur couldn't help but think back to how he was when he was younger, homeless and wondering around trying to find a home.

Wilbur vowed that he would be this young boy's home.

Tommy didn't speak for weeks, didn't wake up for days, but Wilbur kept feeding him medicine because god dammit he wanted to see this young boy open his eyes.

Tommy opened his eyes, and they were a bright blue.

\--

"Please don't- _Wil_." Wilbur can only offer what he hopes to be a reassuring smile. It turns out more like a grimace. He doesn't want to go either, neither of them do.

"Toms, I won't be gone long. We can't survive without food, and I'm not going to be the one who makes you starve. You have your keys, right?" Tommy nods, curling into himself. 

"Alright then, if it becomes too suffocating, just go outside." Tommy avoids his gaze, and it makes Wilbur feel horrible for leaving him. But he needs to do this.

"I love you, Tommy." Wilbur ruffles the younger's hair, who's head is still downcast. He can make out a mumble of 'I love you too' that makes his heart warm. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. He sets off, not looking back in case the sight of Tommy makes him stay.

They need food, and Wilbur could not afford to waste another second thinking about how scared Tommy had looked back there.

\--

Wilbur was breathless as he ran back to his and Tommy's house, he had got caught up with avoiding Krinios and therefore was coming back later than he expected. He prays to the Dome that Tommy was safe.

His heart sunk when he pushed open the door and the house was silent. No Tommy rushing to greet him, to latch onto his side and complain about how long he was gone. That's bad, that's _really_ bad.

"Tommy?" He calls into the empty house, but no one answers. He drops the bags of food near the door, almost forgetting to lock the door behind him. He scans the house frantically, worry eating away at him until he goes upstairs and spots a lump on the floor. His relief is short lived though when he see's how the boy is shaking and there are scratches on his arms and face that are bleeding.

"Toms, oh my god." Wilbur scoops Tommy up, gently placing the boy in his bed. The boy shifts, but doesn't wake up, and that's more concerning than anything. He wipes away the blood on him, cupping the younger's cheek as he observes him. There's a cut on his cheek that will definitely scar, no matter how much ointment put on it.

"I'm so sorry, I won't leave you again."

And that's a promise.

\--

Wilbur surveys the pistol in his hands, twirling it around and pressing close to the sleeping body of Tommy. The gun reminds him of the one he had when he first ran. His dad had fallen, and his mother was begging for them to take him and not her-

Wilbur had grabbed the gun and ran. He had ran and ran until he couldn't breathe. 

This gun was not the one he had had before (that one had been lost, and he still has no idea where it is) but it's an eerie reminder.

"Wi'by?" Tommy's voice filters through his ears, and Wilbur sighs in relief, putting down the gun. 

"Hey, hey, I'm here Toms, 'm not going anywhere." Wilbur reassures, curling around the younger boy protectively. Tommy latches onto him, burying his face into his sweater. Wilbur cards his hand through Tommy's curls.

"'m sorry, I lost the keys and panicked. You were gone for a long time." Wilbur sighs.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry."

Tommy sniffles, although his shoulders slump.

"Go back to sleep, Toms." Tommy easily complies, nestling into Wilbur. Wilbur doesn't relax until Tommy's breathes shallow out.

\--

Wilbur finds the keys under the storage closet. He still installs the key pad.

\--

Respawning is a grueling thing, something that people try to avoid as much as possible. Having your atoms ripped apart and then shoved back together hurts like hell, and the aftermath is always worse. You never know when you'll wake up, or if you don't.

When you do, the way you die always haunts you, no matter how much time passes.

Wilbur hates how much Tommy dies. He's a reckless kid, and challenges everyone without trying to stop and think. Not to say that Tommy isn't smart, but god it's concerning for the older man.

Tommy's dead again, and Wilbur knows he'll wake up back at the house. Wilbur picks up his pace, not wanting to waste another second where Tommy is alone.

When Wilbur returns, Tommy is laying (on _his_ bed), staring up at the ceiling with a bothered look. His hand is clenching the fabric of his shirt where his ribs are. He looks up briefly, locking eyes with Wilbur, before turning away.

"Tommy." Wilbur sits down on the bed next to Tommy.

It's silent for a while, until Tommy speaks up. He doesn't turn to face him.

"Are you mad?"

Wilbur sighs, brushing the hair away from Tommy's forehead.

"Never. I'm just worried about you." Tommy leans into his touch, turning to face him. There are tears pricking at the corner of his blue eyes, and Wilbur wipes them away without thinking.

"I'm sorry, you shouldn't have to be. I'm sorry for being like- like _this_." Tommy gestures towards himself with a weak laugh.

"Oh Tommy." Wilbur pulls Tommy close to him, holding him tighter when his shoulders shake and he begins to sob into the older man's shoulder. Wilbur rubs soothing circles into his back until his breath hitches.

"I love you just the way you are. I wouldn't change _anything_ about you." There's a damp spot on his shoulder, but he can't find it in himself to care.

Wilbur presses a kiss to Tommy's forehead, shifting the hold so that Tommy's more comfortable.

"I love you." 

Tommy presses himself closer to the other.

"Love you too."

\--

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt too much?" Tommy rolls his eyes, and pushes Wilbur's hand away from his ribs.

" _Yes, I'm sure_." Tommy groans, flopping down on his bed.

"You worry too much." 

Wilbur huffs from beside him.

"No, I don't." Tommy laughs at that, turning to stare at the brown haired man with an amused grin.

"You so do, what do you _mean_." Wilbur begins spluttering, going on about how Tommy was _a little bastard child_ and _ouch you really hit hard there_. It all made Tommy cackle, feeling a fuzzy warmth spread through him.

Tommy sinks into Wilbur's side, relishing at how warm he was. Wilbur absentmindedly combs a hand through his hair making Tommy hum. The spot where the bullet had hit his ribs didn't hurt really, more like a phantom touch pressing on him. Not enough to be uncomfortable, and he supposes he should be thankful that he died as quickly as he did, when most people had to suffer until they finally respawned.

Lucky, he was.

Or at least that's what Wilbur says, and then he ruffles his hair.

Tommy likes this, much better than anything else. He has vague memories of his blood family, of his mother brushing his hair, his father carrying him around.

But with Wilbur right here, it's home.


End file.
